The light of enchanted candles flickered beneath the arches of the hall, casting golden reflections over forgotten crystal and half-drunk goblets. The dinner carried on with the choreographed precision of imperial aristocracy.
It was Prince Caelion who broke the smooth cycle of etiquette.
With a restrained gesture, he dabbed the corner of his lips with a napkin and raised his gaze toward Lígia. His voice came calm, measured, with the precise firmness of someone who never wastes words.
"Lady Lígia, allow me a direct question"
She lifted her eyes from her glass, not surprised — only with the patience of someone who had been expecting this exact move.
"I allow it, Your Highness"
Caelion set down his cutlery, fingers interlaced above his plate.
"Considering your clearly analytical perspective, how would you explain Solarys' economic problems? In your view, what is the blind spot of our system"
The hall seemed to hold its breath. Even the wine in the glasses grew still.
Lígia didn't rush. There was no haste in her movement, no discomfort. Only quiet confidence. She rested her elbows on the table with the exact poise of an heiress.
"Honestly, Your Highness? The Empire's biggest problem isn't the lack of gold. It's how it circulates"
A subtle shift of attention swept the table. Even Elira, toying with a cube of crystallized fruit, lifted her chin.
"Explain yourself" Caelion asked
"There's too much concentration in too few hands" Lígia continued calmly. "And those hands have been the same for generations. That doesn't generate growth. It generates stagnation. And too much comfort... weakens even iron"
Neran Ferrosin made a soft sound in his throat — something between approval and discomfort.
Eliron Verdanel, for his part, smiled, clearly entertained.
"You're suggesting an economic redistribution?" Caelion asked
"I'm suggesting mobility" she corrected, with a light smile. "Incentives for magical and commercial centers beyond the traditional axis. Less dependence on Ducal Houses. More support for local guilds, arcane innovation in agriculture, transport, education. And above all..."
She paused, gaze steady on the table.
"Transparency. Without it, no economy breathes. It just survives in sealed chambers until it suffocates"
For a moment, silence returned.
Elira leaned back elegantly.
"Transparency is a rare currency. Especially when the mirrors are clouded by tradition"
"Maybe it's time to clean them" Lígia said with sweet sharpness "Or break a few"
Eliron let out a low, satisfied laugh.
"Between you and the next arcane revolution, Lady Lígia, I'm already preparing the invitation"
Caelion didn't smile, but there was a new gleam in his eyes.
"You see things as someone from the outside. And sometimes... that's exactly what the Empire needs"
Lígia merely nodded.
Then Neran Ferrosin set down his goblet with a deliberate gesture, too precise to be casual, and looked to Eliron Verdanel.
"It's curious how some Houses speak of balance while living surrounded by chants and summoning circles" he said, with a smile that didn't touch his eyes "While others uphold the Empire with actual production. Infrastructure. Results"
Eliron didn't blink. He kept smiling, serene.
"Oh Ferrosin... it's easy to mistake faith for inertia when you live covered in soot. The world needs more than forges. It needs purpose"
Neran raised an eyebrow.
"And selling Archividas like imperial relics is your purpose?"
"Haste is the child of anxiety" Eliron replied, spinning his goblet with elegance "And anxiety... comes from lack of faith. We treat magic as something living. Not an industrial tool"
"That's why you live surrounded by echoes and enigmas" Neran countered, his tone unchanged "While we build cities, maintain roads, deliver weapons, conduits, infrastructure. And yes, we save the day. With pragmatism"
"Pragmatism..." Eliron echoed with a smile "The favorite excuse of those who build empires without asking why — or for whom"
The tension was palpable, yet silent.
Caelion didn't interrupt. He observed.
Elira stirred her dessert spoon as if drawing runes over thin ice.
Lígia watched them. Two extremes: one made of steel, the other of ritual.
She leaned in slightly.
"The Empire seems built on extremes" she said calmly. "Maybe what's missing is a bridge between them"
Eliron looked at her, intrigued.
"And what kind of pillar would that bridge be, Lady Lígia?"
"Spirituality without action becomes cult" she replied. "Action without purpose becomes industry. Neither builds the future alone"
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was contemplative.
Neran looked away briefly, thoughtful.
Eliron raised his goblet in quiet salute.
"You walk fine lines well, my lady"
"Fine lines are made for those who weren't born to follow the ground"
Elira cut in with artificial sweetness.
"Admirable, Lady Lígia. Speaking of bridges at a table full of heirs trained to build walls"
Lígia held her gaze.
"Walls only seem useful until the first storm. Bridges may fall too... but sometimes, it's through them the future crosses"
Elira smiled, like someone who accepts venom in good humor.
"You speak like someone who's seen many storms. Or someone who's already hearing thunder"
Caelion intervened.
"Lady Lígia, so you believe the Empire should decentralize not only magic... but politics as well?"
"Politics is already decentralized, Your Highness. It's just not transparent"
Eliron laughed. Neran smiled at the corner of his mouth.
"That was a slap with embroidered gloves" Neran murmured
"It's not about being against the throne" Lígia continued, now firmer "It's about understanding that the Empire doesn't live on banners alone. It lives on what's unseen: the forgotten fiefs, the silenced voices, the ignored promises"
Elira leaned in slightly.
"And you want to give voice to all?"
"I want to hear what's already being shouted. It's just no one listens because it's easier to pretend silence means order"
Caelion seemed to reflect. His eyes drifted for a moment to the flickering lights over the ruby-colored water.
Eliron raised his glass.
"Dangerous"
"No. Just awake"
It was Neran who made the next move.
"I heard that in the west, Eldrath finally completed its transition. The crown prince took the throne two cycles ago"
The comment was casual — but no one took it that way.
Eldrath.
The rival empire.
Caelion didn't respond immediately. But his fingers, resting silently until then, interlaced with more purpose.
Eliron leaned slightly, an almost imperceptible motion.
"So Alaric ascended earlier than expected"
"And more mature than they feared" Neran replied. "He grew up surrounded by generals and diplomats. Recites the War Codes and the verses of Vireth with equal precision. They say his mind is as sharp as the armor he wears"
Elira gave a quiet, restrained sound.
"Refined or not, Eldrath keeps stacking troops along the borders. Their poetry tends to come with cannons"
Eliron turned his glass slowly between his fingers.
"Refinement isn't the problem. The problem is when they teach a prince to rule... and he decides to actually do it"
Lígia watched. The name Alaric etched itself in her memory like metal to a forge. Young. Heir. Now emperor.
She inhaled softly.
"Eldrath doesn't raise heirs. They forge leaders to win. They learn early that authority without action becomes dead weight"
Elira looked at her for a moment longer.
"You speak like someone who knew Eldrath"
Lígia just rotated the glass gently before replying.
"I speak like someone who understands what happens when you underestimate a mind trained to govern... and to conquer"
Silence.
Neran added, his tone unchanged.
"They call him the Emperor of the Second Glance. They say that if he looks at someone twice, he's already decided whether to keep them... or remove them"
"Charming" Elira commented, without smiling "But if he thinks he can cross our borders just because they placed a crown on his head to applause, he'll find out Solarys still remembers how to burn"
"Maybe" Eliron said, tilting his head slightly "But maybe he doesn't want to cross the borders. Maybe he just wants... to make us forget where they are"
Lígia leaned in subtly.
"Or maybe he wants us to fight among ourselves, so he never has to cross them"
Everyone looked at her.
Caelion seemed to listen more closely.
Lígia placed her elbows on the table, fingers interlaced before her.
"A true strategist doesn't move troops first. He moves rumors. Alaric doesn't need to declare war. He just needs to make us doubt each other... and the throne"
Neran nodded slowly.
"War without blades. War of echoes"
Elira leaned back, watching Lígia with more attention than before.
"And you, Lady d'Argêntea... what would you do if you were Alaric?"
Lígia smiled. Without haste. Without vanity.
"Me?
I would offer peace.
Simple. Impeccable.
So perfect... no one would dare refuse it.
And then... I'd wait to see who stumbles alone"
Silence.
Caelion said nothing.
But in his eyes — for just a moment — something shifted.
Perhaps... caution.